We Have a Situation
by xxkoigirlxx
Summary: Fi calls Michael stating that she has a situation. Michael walks in and what he finds surprises him. One-shot, with a possible option of adding more on later.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer – I do not own any of the Burn Notice characters. I am just a huge fan and like to imagine other scenarios the characters might find themselves in.**

**A/N – This is just a one-shot that I came up with in my head today as I was lamenting over the fact that the season is over. If it's received well, I may add others to it, so if you like what you are reading, please leave me a review!! Thanks for reading!**

_As a spy, you don't have a whole lot of people that you can trust. But those that you do trust, you trust completely, with your life. And you can guarantee that those in whom you place that trust, feel the same way about you. Spies often use each other as a sort of safety net. When you have a situation, who do you call? Your trusted buddy._

Michael was sitting on his green chair eating a blueberry yogurt, dreading the evening to come. Madeleine had been bugging him all week, complaining that she hadn't seen him in "a long time." A long time being a few days. She had called him earlier in the day pleading with him to come over for dinner that night. "And bring Sam and Fiona," she said. "I miss you guys, Michael. It's too lonely here all by myself." He groaned, agreeing to show up in time for dinner.

His cell phone started ringing and he dreaded answering it, thinking it was his mother with some kind of grocery list of things for him to pick up "since you're on your way over anyway." She always had a way of getting him to bring over any number of things so she could avoid going to get them herself. To his pleasure, the caller ID showed it was Fiona.

"Fi!" Michael answered happily. "It's good to hear your -"

"Michael, I have a situation," Fiona responded in a somber voice. "I need you."

"Is everything okay? What happened?"

"I… can't explain it over the phone. Just come quick. I'm at my place." Click, she'd hung up.

Michael raced to the charger and made it to Fiona's condo in half the time it normally would have taken him. He found the door locked, snatched the key from his pocket and let himself in, gun in his right hand.

_When you don't know what kind of situation you are walking into, it's best to always be prepared._

Michael scanned the apartment and saw no sign of Fiona. "Fi?" he called out for her cautiously, thinking the worst.

"In here, Michael." Her muffled voice came from her bedroom.

There was nothing in the world that could have prepared him for the scene he was about to walk in on.

He pushed the door open cautiously, gun still at the ready. What he saw made him put the gun away and stand there with a puzzled look on his face.

Fiona was seated in the middle of the bed. Scattered around here were tons of various dipsticks and test strips all over the bed.

"We have a problem, Michael. It's bad. It's so bad." Her voice was starting to waver.

"What is it, Fi? What's wrong?" He was still trying to make sense of the mess spread around her, not quite understanding what was going on.

"They're all positive, Michael!! Every damned one of them!"

"What's positive, Fi? Tell me what happened!" He got more demanding as he was starting to lose his cool.

"I've tried different brands, using different methods, and at all different times of the day. But they're still all positive." He looked closer at her and saw that her face had a blank look on it, as if she were miles and miles away.

Michael got very concerned then. It was not like Fiona to behave this way. This was not the fiery–tempered ex-girlfriend that he had known and loved. He kneeled down on the bed and got closer to eye level, scanning all the items around them. His worry was that Fiona had been exposed to some kind of chemical contaminant. He placed his hands on her shoulders and got right in her face, shaking her gently to snap her out of whatever she was in.

"Fi. Fi! Fiona!!" he shouted. "What is this? How bad? What have you been exposed to?"

She looked up at him with a mortified look on her face. "Oh, it's bad, Michael. I'm pregnant."

It then dawned on him that all these things he was looking at, they were all pregnancy tests. Each and every one had two lines, or a plus sign.

"You're pregnant?" he asked incredulously. Suddenly, he burst out laughing.

"Why are you laughing? What's so funny?" Fiona demanded, now showing her characteristic spitfire personality.

Michael let out a breath of relief. "I thought you had been contaminated with some kind of chemical toxin! But you're okay. You're just pregnant." He started chuckling again.

Fiona picked up a handful of pregnancy test dipsticks and tossed them at him.

"It's not funny, Michael!" she said. A few tears brimmed to the surface of her eyes.

Michael realized he was being insensitive. He pulled her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her comfortingly.

"This situation? It's not so bad, Fi. We'll handle it. Everything is going to be okay."

"It is?" she asked.

"It is," he replied. "Haven't I always taken care of you?"

"You have."

"Hey, what are you doing for dinner tonight?"

Suddenly, he was dreading his visit to Madeleine even more.

_As a spy, when a situation has an unknown surprise? Sometimes you just have to go with the flow and trust that everything will work out for the best._


	2. A Family Affair

Disclaimer – I own none of the characters from Burn Notice. I just like to place them in different scenarios for fun!

A/N – I'd love more reviews!! If I get positive feedback, I'd love to write some more.

A Family Affair

_Spies don't often have much to do with their families. It's not that they don't love them, but that they make things too complicated. First and foremost, there is the constant worry that someone you've pissed off in your line of work will come at the ones you love the most for revenge. And then there is the simple fact that you can't tell them details about your line of work. Inevitably, questions have to go unanswered, and that leaves an uncomfortable tension hanging in the air. Sometimes it's for the best to keep family at arms length._

Ever since Michael had gotten back to Miami, he was finding himself having to re-learn how to deal with his mother. He missed the days where there was minimal contact and it was done mostly through the mail, or the occasional phone conversation. This seeing her on at least a weekly basis was starting to wear thin. But Madeleine had played a big part in Michael's new line of work, having no problem stashing the occasional client, or providing a bed for Sam when he was in between divorcees.

When she called him to invite him to a dinner party, he groaned to himself, but figured it was the least he could do. Besides, if he declined, he'd be hearing about it for weeks. It was much easier to just suck it up and go. He got in the charger and drove over to his childhood home.

When he pulled up in front of the house, he found it odd that there were no other cars parked there. He checked his watch: 7:30, the exact time she'd asked him to arrive. Maybe she wanted him to show up before the guests so he could help her. That wouldn't surprise him one bit.

He let himself in the front door and was greeted with silence.

"Mom?" he called out.

Nothing. She was nowhere to be found. He saw a flickering coming from the dining room and went closer to inspect. Two candles, the fancy kind you reserved for your fanciest guests, were on the table. The table was set with Madeleine's finest china. The table was set for two. Before he had a chance to try to make sense of this, the front door opened.

"Hello, Michael," Fiona said. "Where's your mother?"

Michael looked at her. She was dressed in a short, low-cut dress that clung to her body in all the right places.

"Beats me," he replied. "What are you doing here?"

"Madeleine called me this afternoon with a last minute invitation to a dinner party she was hosting. She said something about having an odd number of guests and needing one more to even the tally."

"And you accepted?" Michael asked incredulously. "I didn't think dinner parties were your thing."

"No, they're not, not unless they involve guns and some action. I prefer more intimate dinners," she said, looking slyly at Michael. "But," she added, "Maddy is like family to me, and so I couldn't turn her down."

They walked to the table, both of them wondering just what Madeleine had up her sleeve. There, they saw a note tucked under a bottle of chilled champagne. Michael picked it up and read it out loud:

"Thought you two could use some time alone. I'm off to Bridge night. Enjoy your dinner! Love, Mom."

Fiona sat down at the table, trying to stifle a smile.

"Fi, what are you doing?" Michael asked.

"Well, I'm starving. If we're here, we might as well eat!" was her answer.

Michael popped the cork off the champagne, poured 2 glasses, and handed one to Fiona.

"Here's to family!" he raised.

"To family."


	3. One Day Off

**Disclaimer – As usual, I own none of the characters of Burn Notice, but I am the proud owner of a very active imagination! ;)**

**A/N – I tried to get away from the romance and try a little action sequence, but I'm not sure if I like how it turned out. I am more of a romance kind of girl than I am an action kind of girl. Please review and let me know what you think. (Come on people, I am on my knees begging here!)**

One Day Off

_As a spy, it is very important to keep track of time. Missing a meeting with a client, or an archenemy, say, could have a potentially fatal outcome. Thus, a spy always has to keep on top of dates and times to be sure that he or she shows up when it is most important to do so. Good organizational skills were an essential for anyone hoping to make it in the spy world. Of course, the best organizational skills would do no good if you forgot what day of the week it was._

Michael strolled up to The Carlito in a casual manner. He meandered his way among the patio tables until he found the one he was looking for. He slid out a chair and took a seat across from Sam. When the waitress came by, he placed an order for iced tea, ignoring the scathing look from Sam.

"C'mon, Mikey! Have a beer. It'll put a few hairs on your chest!"

"Really, Sam. I guess that explains a lot," he said looking over at his friend seeing a slight beer gut where there used to be nothing but toned muscle.

"Eh, whatever. I'll take a mojito, sweetheart!" Sam ordered, flashing a goofy grin at the waitress.

As the drinks came, they discussed some minor details of a job they had just completed, and of course, the discussion came back to Michael's burn notice, as it so often did.

"Really, Mike," Sam started in on his usual tirade. "I just don't see why getting back in is such a huge deal. I mean, look at us! If we weren't so damned soft-hearted, we could have made a pretty penny by now!"

"Yeah, Sam, but then you'd have no excuse to continue living off of your sugar mamas."

"You're just jealous that I'm so smooth with the ladies," Sam joked back at him.

"Whatever, Sam. You're something with the ladies, although I'm not sure smooth is the word I'd choose to use!"

They bantered back and forth like this for a while. Having been friends for as long as they were, they were comfortable joking with each other and knew to never take it personally. They had a lot in common, although by looking at them you'd be pressed to tell. Sam was to his "washed up" status as Michael was to his burned status.

"So, what's Fiona up to these days?" Sam asked.

"Same thing as always," Michael replied. "She has me helping her with tactical support for some gun running deal she's been working on the side."

"You weren't kidding when you said same thing," chuckled Sam.

They sipped their drinks and enjoyed people watching in silence. Just then, a very attractive woman passed by, wearing a minimal amount of clothing.

"Wow," said Sam, practically drooling. "Nothing like a Wednesday afternoon in Miami."

"What? What did you just say, Sam?" Michael sat up at attention.

"I was commenting on how great it is to sit here and ogle beautiful women as I enjoy my drink. Don't get your panties in a twist, Mikey!"

"No, the day of the week!! What day of the week did you say it was? Come on, Sam, this is important!!" Michael was shouting by now, attracting the attention of the patrons at several of the other tables.

"Wednesday. I said it's Wednesday," Sam said confused. He had no idea what the big fuss was about.

"Oooooooh, crap!" Michael yelled jumping up from the table. "Hurry up, Sam, we've got to go!"

Sam trailed after him. "Aw, Mike, I didn't even get to finish my mojito!" Sam complained, barely having enough time to close the door before Michael put the charger into gear and sped off. "Wanna tell me what this is about?"

"Wednesday, it's Wednesday!" Michael ranted. "I could have sworn it was Tuesday! I can't believe I did this. If anything happens to her…"

"Slow down, Michael. Yes, I believe we have ascertained that it is indeed Wednesday. Now tell me, what happens on Wednesday that you are apparently missing right now?"

"Remember that tactical support with Fi? Well, it should have started fifteen minutes ago!"

"Ah, I see," said Sam. "Yeah, I can see how that could be a problem. Well hurry up then, Mike, step on it!"

They pulled up to the location in record time. Fiona's car was parked next to a flaming red corvette. Michael and Sam jumped out, hearts pounding. Scanning the area, they saw no one.

"Oh, Mike. I don't have to tell you, buddy, but this does not look good."

"Shut up, Sam. Let's spread out and look for her. If anything happened to her, if she's hurt, or…"

"Don't worry, pal. Fiona's a big girl, I'm pretty sure she can take care of herself," Sam said confidently, trying to hide his concern.

In front of the cars, there was a small embankment that dropped down, covered with brush. Michael could see some turquoise fabric torn off clinging to one of the branches. His heart lurched. Fiona had been wearing another one of her short numbers in this exact color when she left his loft that morning.

"Down here, Sam," Michael called out, propelling himself through the tangled undergrowth and down the hill.

What he saw when he got to the bottom amazed him. He wasn't sure if he should laugh or cry.

Fiona sat straddling a man twice her size. He was face down on the ground with his hands zip-tied behind him. From the looks of the blood pouring out of his nose and the eye that was beginning to swell shut, he'd had better days.

"Running a bit late, are we?" she asked Michael through clenched teeth.

"Oh, Fi! I'm so sorry! I thought it was only Tuesday and-"

"No worries, boys!" Fiona said cheerfully flashing a smile at Michael and Sam, who tripped and rolled the last few feet of the hill.

"What happened, Fi?" Sam asked, with an amazed look on his face.

"Well, Fiona began, "my _friend_ here saw that I had no backup and decided it would a good opportunity to take advantage of me and take the guns _and_ my money."

"Oh, bad idea, buddy!" Sam chuckled, addressing the thug on the ground.

"It looks like he underestimated your prowess," Michael said.

"Just a bit," Fiona said nonchalantly. She was never one to brag about her skills.

Michael looked her over. Pride, and something else, filled his heart. Fiona had not even a scratch anywhere on her.


	4. Man's Best Friend

**Disclaimer – I own none of the Burn Notice characters, blah blah blah.**

**A/N - Just as a clarification, none of these are necessarily related to the others. They are just as series one-shots, completely independent of one another, unless specifically stated. Hope that clears up any confusion!!**

**And, as always, love love love r****eviews!!**

Man's Best Friend

_Spies don't have pets as a general rule. It's just not possible with the lifestyle that we live. Pets need to be fed and given fresh water, and taken out to do their business. Since we never know when we are going to be home at any time, or day, it's not an ideal living situation. And given our tendency to pack up and vacate the premises at a moments notice, well, pets just don't fit into that kind of life. For spies, man's best friend is not a dog; it's his gun._

This was not the type of job Michael enjoyed doing. In fact, he normally would have turned this one down, but, the client was a sister of a childhood friend, and he just couldn't say no. Nicole was a single mother trying to raise her two young children alone. She lived in a small house in a questionable neighborhood. It wasn't a total slum, but it was headed in that direction. Nicole knew it wasn't the best place to raise kids, but the house was hers and it was all she had. Across the street from her, a drug dealer moved in and suddenly her safe haven wasn't so safe anymore.

The old friend had heard that Michael was back in town and begged him to help his sister. He had heard that Michael had a way of "taking care of things" and he'd scrimped and saved what little amount he could to pay him for his services. Of course, Michael, being the softy that he is in situations like these, refused to accept any of the money above what they needed to cover expenses. He had hired his two most trustworthy friends, one being an ex-girlfriend, to help him with tactical support.

And so it was that Michael, Fiona, and Sam had found themselves in this situation. Having run the drug dealer and his cohorts out of town, they were doing a quick check through of the abandoned house. In a neighborhood like this, a house could sit vacant for months. Michael knew what it was like for kids in these kinds of situations. They were latchkey kids, coming home to empty houses and no supervision because the single parent, usually mom, was at work when school was done for the day.

Kids like that got bored, and when kids got bored, they snooped and explored. The last thing Michael wanted to read on the news was that some kid had found a cache of guns or drugs in a vacant house and ended up dead. They searched thoroughly through each room, looking for anything that could be a danger to curious kids.

That's when they found him. Fiona was in the hall headed for the bedroom when she heard the rustling behind the closed door. She signaled to Michael and Sam and they prepared their guns as she opened the door. He was cowering in the corner, whimpering and whining.

"Well, hello, little fella!" said Sam.

"Oh, isn't he adorable? Come here, boy!" Fiona called him over to her. The dog wearily sauntered over to where she stood squatting on the floor.

"Are you sure that's smart, Fi?" Michael asked. He'd had enough run-ins with dogs that he was leery of getting too close.

"He's just a little guy, aren't you boy? What, are you afraid of this poor little boy, Michael?" Fiona spoke soothingly to the mutt of a dog that was now licking her hand.

"Poor thing looks like he hasn't been fed in days!" Sam interjected.

Michael just stood there looking at Fiona. It was rare that he got to see the softer side of her, and he felt like a voyeur watching her shower affection on the dog.

They finished up the job and were going to head back to loft when Fiona stopped dead in her tracks.

"What about the dog?" she asked.

"What about him?" Michael responded.

"Can we keep him?" Fiona looked up at him with an almost child-like look on her face.

"A dog, Fi? What are we supposed to do with a dog?"

"He can live with me," she replied determinedly.

"Don't you have some kind of no pets clause at your condo?" Sam asked.

"That's no big deal," she said. "I'm sure I have plenty of things in my condo right now that are against my lease."

Michael sighed. How could he say no to Fiona's request? She just looked so damned innocent when she asked.

"Fine," Michael grumbled. But if he pees in my charger…"

"He won't. You're a good boy, aren't you?" Fiona crooned to the straggly mutt. "I'll have to come up with a name for you."

They all climbed into the car, stray dog included, and headed for the loft.

Fiona had requested to be dropped off at home, citing that she had some errands to run, but promised to meet Sam and Michael at the loft later. They were starting to get worried when she finally showed up.

Fiona walked in with a clean and freshly groomed dog. He was sporting a black studded collar.

"Sorry I'm late, boys, Dragunov and I had some things we needed to take care of."

"Dragunov?" Sam asked.

"Seriously, Fi, you named your dog after a sniper rifle?"

Fiona beamed, patting her new companion. "He likes it. It suits him."

Madeleine had been pestering Michael to come by all week, so he asked the others if they wanted to come along. His mother was so much easier to deal with in a group setting, more careful to be on her best behavior in front of company, even if it was only Sam and Fiona. They agreed to come.

"But the dog has to stay in the car," Michael said. "I'm not sure how Mom would take it."

"His name is Dragunov," Fiona corrected.

When they arrived at Michael's childhood home, they found Maddy sitting on the couch trying to comfort a sobbing elderly neighbor of hers. She looked wearily up at Michael as the three walked in. Michael sighed, hoping this distraught woman was not going to be his latest client.

"Michael, Sam, Fiona. It's so good to see you!" She looked very pleased to have someone rescue her from the woman on the couch.

"What's going on, Maddy?" asked Sam, gesturing to the crying figure.

"Oh, this is Thelma, she lives two doors down. Thelma, I'd like you to meet my son, Michael, his friend Sam and his… well… Fiona."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Thelma said, sniffing back tears and reaching for a new tissue.

"What's wrong, Thelma?" Fiona asked the lady as she sat down next to her.

Michael groaned inwardly. Leave it to Fiona to scout out potential clients for him.

The woman looked up with red-rimmed eyes. "Oh, you tell them, Maddy. I just can't go through it all over again!" She set off into another bout of sobs.

Madeleine shot Fiona a look and Fiona awkwardly patted Thelma on the back.

"Oh, it was just awful, Michael!! Poor Thelma had a poodle, the cutest little dog you've ever seen! He was white, all fluffy and adorable and Thelma used to dress him up in little…"

Michael glared at her, mentally willing her to get on with it.

"Well, anyway, they killed him! Some bastard just hit him, drove away, and left him in the street to die. Isn't that terrible?"

"Oh, I just don't know what I am going to do without my little Zanzibar!" Poor Thelma looked as if she was ready to have another outburst.

"Zanzibar?" Michal asked, looking confused.

"The dog, Mike!" Sam interjected.

"He was my only companion. I got him after my husband, Herbert died, and he's just been my little sunshine. I don't know how I'll go on living without him. It's been so very lonely since he crossed that bridge into doggie heaven."

Fiona suddenly got up and left the room. Michael stared after her, wonderingly.

"What was that all about?" Sam asked.

"You'll see," answered Michael, with a knowing smile on his face.

Just as quickly as she'd left, Fi walked in. This time she was carrying the dog tucked under her arm. She nuzzled his nose and then went to stand in front of Thelma.

"Thelma, I just happened to have found this poor little guy wondering all alone today. I called the pound, but nobody reported him missing, so they told me to keep him. I know of course that you can never replace Zanzibar, but do you think this sweet boy could keep you company?" Fiona had a bit of a sad look on her face, but nobody could tell besides Michael.

"Oh, look at him!" exclaimed Thelma. "Why, he's perfect! Are you sure, dear?"

"Oh, yes," Fiona said emphatically. "He's adorable and all, but I'm not much of a dog person and besides, my lease doesn't allow for any pets. I was just hoping to find him a good home and I walk in and here you are. It's absolutely meant to be!"

"Oh, thank you so much! I think I'll call him Zanzibar the second!" Thelma got up off the couch, taking Dragunov from Fiona's outstretched arms. "I'll see you later, Madeleine. I need to go show "Deuce" his new home!"

Later that night at the loft, Michael and Fiona sat contentedly eating yogurt. Michael watched Fi as she ate. It seemed that lately, he was seeing sides of her that he either didn't know she had, or that he'd forgotten with time. He was so proud of her. He almost wasn't going to say anything, afraid to ruin the moment, but he couldn't help himself.

"Fi," Michael said quietly, "That was a really sweet thing you did back there, with the dog. For what it's worth, I think you made the right decision."

"Thanks, Michael. You know, I thought about it and, spies just weren't meant to have pets."


	5. BestLaid Plans

**A/N – I just wanted to clarify again, to clear up any confusion. These are all JUST one-shots. Each story/chapter is a scene in and of itself, completely independent of the other ones I've written in this collection. They are in no chronological order whatsoever. The only exception to this is if I state otherwise in an author's note at the top.**

**I have another series in the works, more one-shots, based on various proverbs. I need to do some work on that and I cannot tell you when I will start. I have my hand in many writing "pies" right now and I need to prioritize.**

*****For those of you interested in seeing more of expectant Fiona? I have a surprise in store for you!!!! I have plans for a series dedicated all to Fiona being pregnant! These WILL be connected and will be in chronological order so they are easier to read. Look for this to come out in the next few days to a week!! I am really excited to work on that one.**

**As always, I live for reviews!! Thank you so much for the feedback! I truly appreciate each and every little note you leave me!**

Burn Notice – Best Laid Plans

_As spies, even sometimes when you have the plans laid out just so, things don't always fall into place. When this happens, you can get an unexpected outcome. The reality of the situation is that sometimes, people die. Even when it isn't your fault, and a client is a victim of circumstances, or of their own stupidity, it's still a tough pill to swallow. Sometimes, it's all you can do to walk away knowing you did the best you could. _

The job went wrong, horribly wrong. The situation was doomed to fail the second that our client decided to ignore our advice and take matters into her own hands. This in and of itself is a horrible thing. But, when a child is involved, it becomes absolutely atrocious.

Michael, Sam, and Fiona had pulled out all the stops on this one. The client: a mother, and abused wife. The bad guy: a local drug lord. The complication: their daughter, a blonde hair blue-eyed beauty. The mother was trying to get away from the father, who was emotionally abusive and had just started getting physical. This hit hard with Michael and while he knew it was going to be a lot of tough work, he could not turn it down.

Things were going smoothly, until the mother changed gears. She had decided that it was in the best interest of herself and her daughter if they went home. Michael urged her to re-think her plan. She had left, and that made her husband very angry. He wasn't very likely to ever forgive her for that. Fiona was visibly upset. The notion that a woman would choose to go back to her abuser was one that got her very angry.

"If you go back now, he'll kill you," she had said plainly.

She agreed that they were right, but it turned out that the woman would not budge. She couldn't be blamed for being afraid, but if she'd just listened… As soon as she was out of their sight, she ran right for home. As soon as they found out, they rushed after her as fast as they could. It was too late.

They had expected that the client would suffer a bad fate, so when she was gunned down, while they cringed, it did not surprise them. The shocker came when the daughter also fell to the ground, a puddle of blood spreading out from her still body. She had been caught in the crossfire.

Michael, Sam and Fiona had driven away from the scene in silence. There was nothing left that they could do.

Sam was the first one to break the tension.

"Well," he said. "That stunk."

"You can say that again," Michael replied.

Fiona stayed silent. Michael knew this would hit her hard. She was an advocate of sorts, in her own way, for women in abusive relationships. She had seen it growing up and that was part of the reason she had joined the IRA. She was determined to never play the part of the weak female. Michael often wondered if her childhood background was part of the reason for her penchant for violence.

"You know what we need?" asked Sam. "We need to get drunk."

"Sounds good to me," said Michael.

"There's a new club that just opened up," Fiona said, finally breaking her silent vigil.

Both Sam and Michael turned their heads with a swiftness to stare at her. The club scene was not usually her thing. Fiona generally preferred a more intimate quiet setting.

"I have no objections!" Sam interjected.

"Are you sure, Fi?" Michael asked, looking concerned.

"Yes," she answered simply.

* * *

The three had agreed to meet at the loft later that evening, then went to their respective homes to shower off the filth of what they had just witnessed.

Sam and Michael were waiting patiently for Fiona. They had been standing there for nearly fifteen minutes.

"You think she's okay, Mike?" Sam asked.

Michael knew Fiona better than anybody. "Yeah. She'll be here."

About five minutes later she walked up. All issues with her tardiness faded when they saw how she looked. Fiona was wearing another one of her trademark shorter than short dresses. This one was in an airy blue that set off the deep tone of her tan. One little strap held up the front, which was cut so low it was amazing it covered anything.

Sam let out a wolf-whistle.

Michael just said, "Wow."

Fiona just smiled slyly.

Together, they left for the club.

* * *

Inside the club, the music was loud and booming. Lights were flashing everywhere and it was almost disorienting.

"Why did we come here again?" Sam yelled. Although he knew, as did the other two, that the loud music helped silence the voices screaming in their heads telling them what they could have should have done earlier. "I mean, heck, we might as well be at your place, Mikey! Doesn't sound much different!"

Michael was sipping his drink slowly. Sam was attacking his with his usual voraciousness, but he had built up a tolerance so high, he could have been drinking water. Fiona, however, was a different story. She was downing drink after drink, like someone who had an unquenchable thirst. Sam was amazed, wondering how much alcohol her little body could handle. Michael just shook his head. He had an idea of how his night would end.

Michael and Sam sat watching as Fiona worked her magic on the dance floor. The fluid way that her body moved attracted the attention of much of the male clientele of the club. Michael was transfixed on her, tuning out everything and everyone else.

"Hellooooo, anybody in there?" Sam asked, waving his hands in front of Michael's face.

Michael shook his head to break his trance. "What did you say, Sam?"

"I said, it's okay for you to sit here and look at her with un-clean thoughts, but it makes me feel like a dirty old man."

Michael chuckled. He looked back up Fiona dancing with some guy who was dressed like a pimp. He was watching carefully, waiting to make his move. It didn't take long. The guy was putting his hands all over Fiona. Michael stood up quickly.

"Excuse me, Sam. I have some business to take care of."

Sam followed his gaze right to the dance floor. He let out a big sigh. "I've got your back, Mikey."

Michael strode over to Fiona quickly. He grabbed the offender by the shoulder and yanked him off of Fiona, who incidentally stood there wide-eyed.

"Pardon me, I'm cutting in," Michael smiled with a cheesy grin.

"I don't think so! I'm not done dancing yet. And the lovely lady doesn't seem to mind," the guy snarled.

"This lovely lady is already taken," Michael declared with a smooth, even voice.

The guy grabbed Michael by the lapels and tried to shove him backwards. Like a statue, Michael never moved.

Sam showed up. "You're messing with the wrong guy, buddy!"

The guy pulled out a knife and Michael laughed in his face. He kicked it out of his hand, scooped up Fiona, tossing her over his shoulder, and left.

* * *

Fiona sat seething in the back seat while they drove back to the loft. She had plenty to say, but for once, she didn't want to say it in front of Sam. When they arrived, Sam drove off in his own car with a "good luck!" yelled out of the door.

Michael walked up the stairs calmly, with Fiona stomping behind him. He was trying to brace himself for the barrage that he knew was coming.

"What the hell was that all about, Michael? Since when am I "taken" as you put it?" Fiona yelled at him as soon as the door was closed.

"Fiona," Michael said calmly, "you are drunk. That guy knew it and was taking advantage of it. If you were anywhere close to being in your right mind, you never would have allowed that to happen."

Fiona was angry. All of the stress and the tension from the day all seemed to pour out of her at one time.

"I'm not a child, Michael! I'm not one of your damned clients! I can take care of myself, thank you very much!" She accented those last two words with throwing her heels across the room towards him. Thankfully, the alcohol affected her aim, and she missed both times.

Usually, Michael would choose to fight fire with fire, but this time, he knew it was best to maintain a cool demeanor.

"I know that, Fi. But I can't sit there and do nothing while some asshole is putting his hands all over you. I'm sorry, but I care too much to let that happen."

"Sorry, are you? Really, Michael? You don't know just how sorry you are!" she hurled her earrings now. One narrowly missed his head, and the other bounced off his chest. This seemed to anger her even more.

"Listen, Fi, why don't you just try to calm down. I know it's been a shitty day."

"A shitty day?" she shouted. "Why should I calm down, so I can be like you? Mr. Cool, Calm and Collected? How can you just sit there, Michael? We just watched a woman and her child die!" Now she was all out screaming. She had taken her hair down and was just standing there with an anguished look on her face.

"I know, Fi," Michael said, soothingly. "I've gone over every single step over and over again in my head, Fi. You have to know there is nothing, absolutely nothing that we could have done different. You know what they say about the best-laid plans? If a client doesn't cooperate, we can't be held responsible. It wasn't our fault." He walked over to her and put his arms on her shoulders.

But Fiona would not be comforted. "It was_ my_ fault, Michael! I should have stayed with her! I shouldn't have trusted her!!" Fiona began beating her small fists against Michael's chest in anger. He just stood there and let her. He could stand the bruises if it was what she needed to do. "It was _my _fault!! Don't you see? If I hadn't have left her, if I had stayed on her, not letting her out of my sight…" She let out an anguished sound.

"She didn't have to die, Michael." Fiona was sobbing now. "And the child, the poor sweet girl…"

"Shhhhhh. It's okay, Fi. Let it all out." It was unnerving to see her cry. It was more her style to go blow something up when she was upset, playing her emotions very close to her chest. The alcohol had definitely lowered her inhibitions.

Fiona cried and cried into Michael's chest. The tears coursed down her face unrelentingly, soaking his shirt. He held her tightly, smoothing her brown hair away from her face.

"… my sister….. " Fiona mumbled, her voice breaking.

Suddenly, it all struck Michael just why this was hitting Fiona so hard. The girl. The client's daughter had been roughly the same age as Fiona's younger sister Claire, when she was killed in Ireland. Having met Fiona's family, he could see that the child could have been a blood relative based on looks.

"Oh, Fi. I'm so so sorry."

"How do we do this, Michael, and still be able to live with ourselves at the end of the day?" Fiona looked up at him with tears glittering in her eyes.

"You just have to believe that you did the best you could," He answered her, scooping her up as if she were just a doll.

He carried her over to the bed, pulled back the covers with one hand, and laid her down gently. After peeling off his tear-soaked shirt, he went over to the other side and slid in beside her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close to him. She laid her head on his chest, the last of the tears drying up.

"Michael," she murmured, drifting off to sleep.

"Yeah, Fi?"

"Thank you. You always know what I need, even when I don't know it myself."

"Anytime, Fi. That's what I'm here for."


End file.
